Shawn stared down at the tracks cutting into the mud. He’d been staring at them for nearly ten minutes- trying to make sense of what they were telling him. The tire prints from Gus’s car. No rooster tails of muck though; even irate his best buddy would never peel out of any parking space and risk the possible damage that could come with such exhibitionism. Well, not in the company car anyhow. However, a resurrected machine from the seventies? Please, those cars were designed for fast girls, fast getaways, and apparently breaking down at the most inopportune times. Speaking of which, it served him right when his new/old ride had become a smoking ruin. Nor had abandoning said ruin been the best of moves considering the title had been in Gus’s name. Most responsible of the group- cheyah...

One hand working in and out of a tight fist, Shawn finally turned away from the scene of his wretched abandonment and headed back towards the scene of his future paycheck. As far as he was concerned- if Gus thought he was sharing any of it he could suck a bag of lemons.

Kicking a corncob out of his path, he strode across the well maintained lawn towards the higher grass behind the barn. The broken trail leading to the lake’s edge grew muddier the closer he got to the water. Considering how close he came to being devoured that morning, Shawn wasn’t incredibly eager to nose around the shoreline. However, evidence always came first- even above his own misgivings. Or Gus’s. Or his dad’s…

Speaking of dads…

Trilling merrily, his phone bleeped a triple pulse- the glance at the screen confirming the authority figure waiting for his response at the other end. Excellent timing. Nothing he liked better after a good fight than to wash it down with a lecture.

“Lo’ father.” He said as he crouched again, studying the claw marks where they vanished into the water.

“Where the hell are you Shawn?”

One finger feeling out the scaly impression nearest to the lapping wavelets, Shawn tucked the phone between his shoulder and ear the free up both hands. “If you must know, Gus and I are tracking a mythical beast in hopes of gaining fortune and glory- not to mention a cover shot on Vanity Fair.”

“What? What in hell are you talking about? Oh wait, don’t tell me. You were tipped off that a rouge werewolf was hunting villagers in a small northern town- so you packed your silver bullets and wolf’s bane and hit the road?”

Shawn made a startled noise that carried easily over the phone line.

“What?”

“I’m just a little surprised you know your monsters. Let me guess; there was an episode of Survivorman where he ate one of them.”

There was a growl being crushed between teeth right now- he was sure of it. Good “Shawn, I DO read.”

Moving the cell to his other ear to ease the stiffness growing in his neck, Shawn then stood to backtrack up the trail again. “I didn’t know Fish Slayers Annual had articles about supernatural beings.”

Instead of taking the bait dressed out in all its fishy goodness, Henry switched tracks mid-argument. “You know it would have been nice to let me know you were taking off this weekend.”

Now the other side of his neck was cramping, not to mention the pulse behind his eyes was starting to beat painfully against his retinas. Still, he couldn’t help pushing this into a confrontation. He’d come off very much on the short end with his last one on one, and he was due a victory. “What, is there like an Amber Alert out? Dad, I’m a virile young man. My schedule is my own. Besides, I don’t own any pets, and all my plants are dead. Therefore informing people, as in you, when I go out of town, is not a requirement.” His wandering path was less searching and more energy burning now, and with the growing dark it made for fun times traversing the uneven ground.

Which meant that within three steps he was stumbling over a mud encased root arching out of the muck.

“Dammit!” He tugged free with an arm-flapping hop, barely avoiding another plunge into the lake. “Look, what do you want dad? I’m kinda in the middle of something here!”

Where’s my razor?”

“Your raz…? You’re calling to bawl me out for borrowing your razor?” He contemplated seeing how far his phone could skip across the glass smooth surface of the water.

“Shawn, you don’t shave! Why the hell would you need to borrow it?”

“You think this perfect level of manly shadow maintains itself? Besides, mine was broken and Gus keeps his in his briefcase.” And this conversation was going well past ridiculous. He couldn’t even escape for a weekend without… “Wait… I left two days ago- and you’re just noticing this now?”

“No, I’m not just noticing it now…”

“This isn’t about the razor is it.” He stumbled again, one hand catching on the rugged bark of a nearby pine.

“Shawn…”

“You were worried about me.”

Henry laughed sharply. “Worried? Kid, if anything, I’d be worried you were using my razor to shave your idiotic mythical being!”

“And that would differ from its normal usage how?” His absent pacing carried him to the water’s edge. Stepping over the shallow three-toed prints, he spun back around and squooshed towards the head of the trail again. “Look, you’ll get your razor back tomorrow- I’ll even polish it up nice for you. Do I need to buy new blades too?”

There was a small pause before his father answered him. “Okay, you know what, forget it Shawn. You want to be an ass? Be my guest. But next time you break something, replace it instead of digging through my things!” The hard clap in his ear let him know the conversation was clearly over.

Lowering his cell slowly, he gently clipped in shut before sliding it into his pocket. Immediately he felt guilty for the unnecessary pushing of his father’s buttons. Already alienated from Gus for an undetermined duration, now he’d just verbally kicked his dad in the back of the knee. Whatever, the old man would get over it. As it was, Shawn had very important work to do, and there was no time to accommodate the inner fifteen year old child on an emo-trip.

One forward step and his foot shot out from underneath him, dropping him ass first into the muddiest mud patch on the shoreline. “Uuk!” Freezing in place- hands and legs raised and stiff- he was aware that he probably looked like an upended tortoise. How embarrassing.

Both palms sinking into the squidgy surface, Shawn’s lips pulled away from his teeth as he gingerly rolled to his knees- aware that he was effectively coating himself in a smelly, sticky, clingy layer of gunk. Oh, this was so not going to come out in the wash. Either dad or Gus had cashed in their karmatic retribution because no way was he this much of a lummox.

Heels skidding back and forth, he managed to drag to less slippery ground- cursing softly the whole way- until he could slump next to a rocky embankment. Dammit, he felt like shi-

“You okay?”

Glancing left he was instantly blinded by a retina frying beam. “Ho- dude!” His hand blocked the glare while he blinked rapidly in an effort to regain his vision. Lowering the flashlight, Ruger reached down to grab Shawn by the upper arm- easily lifting him back to his feet. Looking him over, the taller man shook his head with a whistle.

“Son, I don’t claim to understand that psychic business, but surely there has to be an easier way to track down Petunia.”

Failing to dust off the caked layers, Shawn rubbed his hands together- flakes of dried mud falling in a grey rain. Already his jean legs were beginning to stiffen, as well as the back of his shirt. Clothing in ruins, mind incapable of concentrating with the aggravation burrowing through it like a homicidal hamster, he was left with only one acceptable option.

“Ruger, I have a huge, huge favor to ask of you.”





_)()(_




“I almost had my eyebrow pierced.”

The bland statement was the first sound to emerge after a shared silence of nearly two hours. Batteries on their last legs, the flashlight had been off for even longer. Too bad their eyes hadn’t done them the courtesy of evolving night vision yet- damn Darwin and his theories.

“You? Really?”

“What about it?”

The shuffle of fabric was followed by a grunt as backside met broken frog head. Shifting around, Juliet grabbed the offending ceramic skull and removed it from her chosen slumping spot. “I just never pictured you as the piercing type Carlton.” The frog head bounced to a rest somewhere towards the back of the trailer.

There were a few pops of bubble wrap as her partner moved his own lanky body into a more comfortable position before he spoke again. “I was twelve. And it wasn’t exactly my idea. Some delinquent with a sewing needle and a potato thought it’d be cute to carve a hole in my face.”

Blinking in the blackness, Juliet tried to picture a prepubescent version of the man she knew. Somewhere, in some ancient file, she’d caught sight of his rookie picture- all neatly trimmed mustache and eager, sparkling eyes. Only with that as a guide was she even partially successful in dredging a serviceable image of him in short pants and sneakers. Oh who was she kidding? The guy was probably wearing a suit and tie from birth. Shaking her head, she fought her way back into the conversation.

“So what did you do?” Reaching beside herself, she located the nearly depleted chip bag and snagged a salty remnant.

“What do you think I did? I called the cops.”

“Carlton!” Of course, she really shouldn’t be shocked- the man drew down on a cat not so long ago. Hello, therapy much?

“Hey, he was attempting assault with a deadly weapon!” He chuckled then. “Let me tell you, he never tried that again- not after Aunt Bernice got through with him.”

“Are you saying you ratted out your…”

“Cousin. Hey, the badge sees perps- not family.”

Okay, now that’s a little… excessive. The tips of her fingers found a comfortably familiar rubbing spot between her eyes. Then she yawned, extending it into a full body stretch. A few joint pops sent delicious repercussions down her limbs, ending in a minor shiver as she worked away the stiffness.

“I got my tongue pierced when I was fifteen.” She confessed, grabbing another chip from the bag. “I left it in for about two hours before losing my nerve and taking it out again.” She chewed thoughtfully. “You know how hard it is to get a refund for that?”

Carlton snorted. “I thought you needed parental consent if you’re under the age of eighteen.”

Juliet smiled though her partner couldn’t see it. “That’s what I said. How do you think I got my money back?”

Her partner actually chuckled. Of course, now they were left with a drought of topics again. They’d long ago run through Twenty Questions, Truth or Dare, and I Spy- which was somewhat ineffective what with surrounding darkness and lack of spy-able variety with which to spy. How many times can you drop clues about a brown cardboard box before it gets really monotonous?

Twice it turns out.

But there were other side effects besides just boredom that came with their entrapment. Not generally prone to irrational fears, Juliet had been fighting a case of steady unease for quite a while now- starting around the time the light had last been extinguished. She knew she had air, and she knew there was no way this was permanent… but without wanting to, she couldn’t help but imagine the trailer shrinking- walls pressing in- air leaking out…

“I was really afraid.”

Carlton’s sudden speech rapidly grounded her, cutting off the nice little panic attack just as she was contemplating the repercussions of letting go with a lung emptying shriek. And then she processed what he’d just said. You what now? “Afraid of what?”

He exhaled, his body moving again- bumping over a few empty cans before he finally stilled once more.

“A few weeks ago… at that- ZomCon thing- when the Chief was…” He cleared his throat, and Juliet remained silent- allowing him to continue at his own pace.

“I know I’ve always talked about when she moves on- how I feel I’m more than up to the challenge of taking over, maybe tighten up on protocol; as well as establish that just because you’re channeling Patch Adams doesn’t mean you’re qualified to…”

“Carlton…”

He cut off his rambling at her tone. Then he startled her when he laughed- a quickly quelled bark containing no trace of amusement. “You know the last person I got so cozy confessional with was…”

Her eyebrow rose when his sentence clipped off. “Was?”

“Never mind.”

This was getting frustrating. Seriously, she’d almost be willing to face a box of one dozen starving, crazed marmosets than drag a soulful admission from her partner. Yeah, she’d even do another round of rabies shots. Excruciatingly painful cluster of stomach injections? Been there, done that. Had she been close enough she might have braved the darkness and possible embarrassment of an ill-landed grab to shake a complete sentence out of him. Of course, if she were close enough, she’d be going for the flashlight first. Despite her personal vow he’d still managed to regain possession of his flashlight- dirty dealing by holding the rest of their edibles hostage, including the single remaining Swiss Cake roll.

Well, it wasn’t like he could go hide in the boy’s bathroom; as if that would stop her anyhow. She decided to wait him out- the tactic having worked fairly well a few minutes ago. As bull-headed and expressive as the man could be about things, or people… person… that aggravated him, Lassiter was just as not forthcoming when it came to anything that exposed his heart. He shielded it fiercely- building walls with not just the standard brick and mortar- but a good layer of industrial steel as well.

He projected badass and disconnected very convincingly- so much so that fellow cops routinely cowered whenever his Irish temper was notched up to full. Head detective on a tear probably filled the nightmares of many of the SBPD’s best and brightest. However, as much as he might want it to be, his plated surface wasn’t bulletproof. She’d seen through the cracks a handful of times. Like when the Chief had given birth as well as after he’d interrogated his soon to be ex farther-in-law. Minute little peeks that closed quickly.

It was one of the reasons she hadn’t ever felt the need to request a new partner. It was also why she was willing to give him time to stop hiding behind an image that only a few people were ever allowed beyond.

Capable of extended silence during countless stakeouts, the current quiet was proving to be more pressure than he cared to deal with. And moments later, she heard the soft beginnings of his barriers cracking away once more.

“When- when I saw her being loaded up into the ambulance… I was actually afraid.” His words almost seemed bewildered- like he was startled by his emotional reaction. Which, truthfully, he probably was.

“I didn’t care about whether or not I’d get the job. It just didn’t matter. None of it mattered.”

She didn’t have a response to that. Even though she too had been shaken by Vick’s injuries, she hadn’t been the one at the scene. She hadn’t been there to hear Iris crying, or see countless terrified people screaming and running like witless cattle. She also wasn’t the one dealing with a special brand of guilt because of that. Whatever risks went along with the job- Karen Vick hadn’t earned hers because of her badge. She hadn’t been busting a perp, or in an area of the city known to be dangerous. She hadn’t even been on the job. An accident. A stupid, unavoidable accident. But because he’d been there when it had happened, Lassiter blamed himself.

“You know this isn’t your…”

“You got any Gummi Bears left?” And like that the wall was back- so fast she almost lost fingers. Letting the diversion slide, her hand started searching the grit coated floor. In moments she located the bag- though by the feel of it there were only about a half dozen of the squishy treats remaining.

“Light?” He clicked on the beam, and she carefully lobbed the bag his way- his long-fingered grasp easily hooking it from the air. The moment it was his, the light vanished again.

She wasn’t through with him however- but waited until she was certain he was chewing to try once more. The crinkle of the bag was a pretty solid signal. Giving him four or so seconds to cram in a mouthful, she tipped her head back, closed her eyes, and spoke.

“How much do you know about my move from Miami?” She could hear him shifting again before he coughed lightly.

“Pretty much what’s in your file. You had a fairly standard employment, assisted on some minor arrests, managed to earn a few small commendations. You passed your detective’s exam about two months before transferring to Santa Barbara.” Juliet wasn’t sure whether to chuckle or roll her eyes at the bland manner in which her partner summed up her career. She settled for a quiet sigh.

“I hadn’t planned on being a detective. Not at first. I was happy being a regular cop. Sure, traffic stops and issuing tickets could be a bit repetitive, but I still felt I was a part of something important.” She rubbed her arm, feeling the goosebumbs. “I suppose you could say I was a little… naive.”

Carlton made a dry sound that could have been a stifled laugh. Rather than brain him with her shoe, she continued speaking.

“It was my mentor that convinced me to try out for the detective’s position when it was offered. And you know, as soon as he suggested the idea… it was like, yes, this is it! It made sense, and suddenly I wanted it like nothing else in my life. So I went for it.” She stopped again, hesitating as she pulled her lower lip between her teeth.

“I passed.” She said softly. “I mean, obviously right?” The laugh, like the one he’d uttered earlier, was hard and more than a little forced. She pulled her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. “I assisted on one of those minor arrests you mentioned a month after I got my detective’s badge. My mentor was with, acting as temporary partner until I could be paired with someone suitable.” Her eyes closed again, one hand rising to press against her lids. “I’d been seeing him for a while… outside of work. We’d kept it secret, figuring it would be okay once… you know.”

“I know.” Said Carlton quietly.

She rubbed fingertips across her stiff smile. “We were meeting a contact at a coffee shop near the beach. I volunteered to go in ahead so I could act as a lookout.” Her fingers twisted together. “He didn’t come alone. He’d been under surveillance by his employers- some smalltime gunrunners. They followed him in.” She shook her head, though only she was aware of it. “It happened so fast. Our contact took a bullet in the arm before I could signal a warning. Of course, by then I didn’t need to. My partner arrived as the shooter was making a break for it. I could have pulled my weapon. The shooter had his back to me- and he didn’t know I was a cop. I could have taken him down but… but all I could think about was… what if I miss? What if I have to fire my gun, and instead of hitting the bad guy, I hit my partner? I couldn’t risk losing him. I couldn’t risk putting him in danger.” She frowned. “I lost sight of the job because I was too focused on my emotions.”

She realized her butt had grown numb from sitting so long on the cold, hard surface.

“What happened to your partner?”

Juliet blew air between her lips, readjusting on her flattened stack of cardboard. “He got the guy before he could hurt anyone else. Our contact survived; and later testified against his employers. They went to jail, we got a ‘well done’ from our chief of police, and that was it.”

“Was it?”

She curled her knees to the side. “No. A week later my boyfriend and I broke up. He transferred to a precinct near South Beach, and I put in a transfer request as well. Our chief knew Karen Vick from the academy- so when the news came in that you needed a new partner, I was offered the job.”

She didn’t feel she needed to detail it out any further. Their history was shared from that point.

Carlton made another sound, something like throat clearing mixed with a cough. “So… was that whole soul-baring story supposed to make me feel better about what happened to the chief?”

Juliet shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not sure why I told you all that.” She paused, scratching her knee. “Did it?”

It was silent a moment as Carlton seemed to be contemplating his answer. Then, abruptly, she heard him chuckle.

“Yeah. I guess it did.”



_)()(_





As he’d discovered in a prior, and much unpleasantly remembered experience, no matter how warm the ambient temperature was, being covered in mud tended to generate some serious chilliness. Which led to a cold. Which led to undiagnosed pneumonia. Which led to complete and ruinous assery via climatic bad guy reveal at Gus’s workplace, thus landing him in the position he was in now- covered from Converse to collar in greenish grey sludge.

Riding back to the cabin in the open bed of Ruger’s truck also didn’t help. For a guy that raised pigs, the big man was extremely fastidious about the condition of his vehicle- sorta like another aged duffer that didn’t need mentioning.

Also, as an aside, Shawn’s towering chauffer managed to drive just slow enough for the hemoglobin hungry horde to zero in on his filthy yet still tasty flesh. He was quite sure he’d given his pound by the time the rumbling Chevy parked next to the little blue Echo surprisingly not speeding its way back to Santa Barbara.

Oozing off the tailgate, he winced when his heels struck the gravel- twinges in his back indicating just how hard he’d bit it earlier. Tottering a few steps until the flexibility started to come back, he flipped up the gate and gave quick thanks to his client. Nodding in return, Ruger slowly reversed until he could turn around, offering another wave before putting the vehicle in drive and heading for the main road.

Irritation with both Gus and his father reflected in the way Shawn pushed through the front door- letting the faded wood bounce against the wall before swinging back quickly on its long spring to clack in the frame.

“Gus!” Sitting at the kitchen table, his friend kept his back to him as he munched something that smelled incredibly tasty. Admonishment for the previous unkindness vanished in light of this latest misdeed.

“Is that a Panini?”

Chewing with a practically obscene expression of enjoyment, his ratfink buddy licked aioli from his lower lip. Still not turning, he slid his phone from his pocket, flipped the lid, and quickly manipulated the keys. Seconds later, Shawn felt the buzzing vibration in his pocket.

“Dude, seriously? Again with the silent treatment?” Fishing his mercifully unmuddied cell from his jeans, he scanned the message waiting for him.

I’m not talking to you

“I gathered.” His lips parted for further reply when another message came through. Tapping his way to the receiving screen, he huffed at the second text.

I only bought one and I’m not sharing.

He glared as the last bite of toasted goodness glided past perfect teeth, pulverized and gone in a single swallow. Oh that was low. Crumpling up the paper wrapper, Gus kicked back his chair and strode from the room to presumably toss his garbage in the kitchen trashcan.

“Dude, you’ve had like, half an hour! Besides we’ve got a pigknapper to catch- and we need to find the thief before Petunia’s…”

“No, you need to find the thief Shawn!” Breaking his own rule to argue more expediently, Gus stomped back into the room. “I told you, I’m not…” allowing his words to forever linger as an unforgivable fragment, he took in the flaking and bespattered figure of his soiled best friend. “That had better not be pig poo Shawn, I’m not kidding.”

Shawn’s return expression was very ‘give me a break’ as he purposefully flapped the front of his mud-caked shirt, chunks flaking off in random segments. Gus squawked, but abandoning his own argument in favor of chastisement had leveled the playing field between them. It was anyone’s game now, and Shawn was due a win.

“Okay, I get it that I pissed you off! I know you’ve put together about a hundred reasons for why you should stay pissed off, fifty of which are probably valid. The thing is, we don’t have time for that!” As he spoke, he toed off his shoes and started peeling his filthy garments- darting towards his bedroom to snag clean clothes from his bag while continuing to speak fast. His shirt hit the floor with a clunk, and he shivered slightly as he pulled on a fresh polo. “Get this, Petunia wasn’t grabbed by Sassy!” Jeans followed the discarded shirt. “How heavy would Sassy be to make footprints that big?”

“Shawn, I’m not…”

“Come on Gus, be mad later, how heavy?” Denim tugged up his legs to button at his waist. Foregoing socks, he hurried back to the main room. As he’d only brought with the one pair, he was forced to pull on the same muck layered sneakers he’d shed minutes before. He really should have put on socks- the squishy wet not anywhere near comfortable.

“You do know this isn’t a real animal?”

“Gus!”

Shaking his head, Gus finally relented. “Well… assuming she’s around fifteen feet…” Eyes going distant as he mentally chased the numbers, he shrugged as he answered. “Anywhere from eight to twenty-five tones. Of course, that’s if she’s similar to a plesiosaurus…”

“Okay, so bigger than a breadbox- the point is, anything that heavy would have big footprints, right?” No answer, but Shawn hadn’t actually waited for one. “Only not just big- but deep!”

The skepticism was returning, but Shawn ignored it as he barreled ahead. “The footprints I found weren’t much deeper than mine- but they should have been if Sassy is as big as you say.” He spread his arms to emphasize his revelation. “Petunia wasn’t grabbed by the lake monster!”

No applause, but the raised eyebrow helped to punctuate the ‘well duh’ comment in his friend’s expression.

“No, I mean there is a Sassy of some kind, but I don’t think she’s behind the thefts! Well, at least not all of them…”

“Do I need to be here for this or can I go pack?”

The lack of excitement was getting old. “Think about it dude! We were at the farm when Petunia was snatched- the thief had to know we were there, which is why he went for a pig in a locked barn rather than easier pickings from the pen outside!”

“Shawn, I told you…”

“Why would a guy stealing a pig, not try to keep it quiet when there’re two people right outside that can hear him?”

Gus opened his mouth, but the question, finally, seemed to have sparked an emotion other than irritation with the man standing by the door. He blinked, tipping back his chin. “If it were me, I’d have used a tranquilizer of some kind.”

Shawn nodded, enthusiasm growing as he started to pace. “What if he didn’t have a tranquilizer? What else could you use to…?” Memory snapped backward, rolling over the past hours-

“What are you doing? That’s designed to carry a `strong electric current!”

His eyes flicked to Gus’s face. “What about a shark pole?”

Looking back in confusion, his friend frowned. “But they’re used for defense. The pulse is too short for incapacitating, he’d need to rewire it or something…”

“It’s no big deal- obviously it isn’t working…”

“He broke it!” Shawn blurted as the second memory flared bright. “Probably the last time he grabbed a pig!”

Gus frowned more deeply. “That’s reaching…”

They were crawling through long grass, Shawn slapping mosquitoes from his neck while Gus wrinkled his nose. “Dude, this whole town stinks! You just had to bring me to farm country didn’t you!”

The grin wiped the past few hours of antagonism and frustration from his mind, leaving only the glow that came with solving a puzzle. Grabbing his jacket from the arm of the couch, swiping Gus’s keys from the table and ignoring the shouted “Hey!” Shawn plowed through the screen door.

“Shawn, I will hurt you!”

“Then you better get in the car!” Barely clearing the frame as he slammed into the vehicle, Shawn had the engine roaring as Gus bolted out of the cabin. As he knew he would, his friend slid into the passenger’s side, expression furious.

“What did I tell you about stealing my keys?”

The other door was still pulling shut when Shawn spun the tires and executed a perfect one-eighty, foregoing the eleven point turn in favor of haste.

“I know you didn’t just kick gravel into my undercarriage Shawn!”

He could have responded more delicately, but when it came right down to it, Gus needed to learn how to pull his punches.

Rubbing his arm as they squealed onto the pavement, Shawn tried not to laugh again at the ruffled feathers to his right. “Just remember dude, you’re the one that said undercarriage.”



_)()(_





Gus wasn’t talking again by the time they’d reached their destination. Rather, Shawn’s destination as it was apparent Gus was just along for the ride. At least he didn’t try to snatch his keys back- though actually getting him to exit the vehicle required some determined tugging and a brief and finger stinging game of hand slap.

Finally extracting his stubborn friend, the two of them proceeded once more through tall grass and clouds of insects. Far more stumbling over rocky ground occurred now that the sun was long set and the moon stubbornly keeping its light hidden behind scattered cloud cover.

Still, though scratches and countless bites had reduced his blood volume a few pints, Shawn managed to lead them to the small shed without any major mishaps.

The door was locked again, no shock, but coercing Gus into finessing it open was a lot more complicated than before. Bribery wasn’t going to fly this time.

“Here’s the thing. We either go in now and check it out, or we stay out here and get sucked to death by parasites.”

Gus snorted. “The way I see it, the only one with the suck problem right now is you.” He smiled smugly before the grin flattened and they shared a glance at the absolute wrongness of his statement.

Brushing it aside with a sharp headshake, Shawn pressed forward intently. “Look, do you really want me to tell your mom who broke her collection of Fabergé eggs and hid the evidence in a cymbal clapping monkey?”

“I didn’t hide it in a cymbal clapping monkey Shawn!” Gus whispered back angrily.

“No, but it sounds a lot cooler than saying you buried it in the backyard.” He slapped Gus’s bicep lightly. “Dude, just open the lock!” He glanced around the backyard- what he could see of it- making certain they were still alone.

Cheek muscle jumping with clenching teeth Gus finally gave in, slapping his mini flashlight into Shawn’s palm. Remaining abnormally silent, he spun the dial. Then he elbowed his friend. “Hold the light higher, I can barely see what I’m doing.”

Obediently lifting the beam, Shawn paid attention to the sequence this time on the off chance he’d need to get inside a third time. Considering Gus’s ongoing PMS, this was the last time he’d be flashing his picking expertise on this particular lock.

Anxious to prove his suspicions, Shawn barely gave his friend time to pull the lock from the handle before he was tugging open the door and slipping inside.

Scoping out the inside of the shed, Shawn crouched when he spotted something on the floor. “I knew it!” He grinned, chuckling.

“What is it?”

He lifted a chunk from the floor, holding it in the light for Gus to see while scanning the rest of the area visible in the beam.

“Dried mud? That’s your big evidence?”

Shawn stood, still holding the fragment. “Mud that wasn’t here this morning!” He tossed the piece back to the floor- rubbing the dusty residue on his jeans. “Not only that,” he picked his way to the corner of the shed where the stack of burlap bags lay heaped, “remember that hunk of cloth I found when I nearly died in the jaws of death?” He dug in his pockets for a few seconds before remembering the torn chunk of fabric was in a pair of jeans lying in muddied disgrace back at the cabin. “Alright, forget the visual. But it’s the same material as these sacks!”

Apparently still not convinced, Gus shook his head. “Really. Well where are the pigs Shawn? So far I haven’t heard any squealing.”

He was in the water, struggling to flip the kayak back to the open air above- lungs reaching that point where it was breathe or black out- when he turned his head… And all he could see were teeth! Long, sharp cones, wide mouth, and a single yellow cat’s eye…

He swallowed before scratching the back of his neck. “Uh… I don’t think the pigs are here… anymore…” He pursed his lips. “Dammit, there goes the extra five grand.”

Gus snorted, turning towards the door.

“Okay, look,” he made a stumbling hop-walk back across the littered floor, “I’m about ninety-three percent positive Bob is the pigknapper!”

“That a fact?” His friend smiled in that ‘I’m just amusing the moron until I can slip away like a sneaky jackal’ way. “Ninety-three percent?”

Shawn’s eyes flicked to motion just beyond Gus’s shoulder- slowing raising his hands as the double barrel of a shotgun pointed steadily at his throat.

“Did I say ninety-three?”





_)()(_





Carlton had reverted back to his juvenile, petulant personality not more than half an hour after his small sharing session. “I really need coffee.”

On the other side of the trailer, O’Hara made a very unfeminine sound like a roughly ejected hairball- a skill he prayed to God she hadn’t picked up from Itchy and Scratchy. Speaking of her ankle shredding monsters he wondered, in passing, how they were getting on without food for nearly three days.

With luck maybe they ate each other.

“Carlton-” The sharp whisper put thoughts of kitty cannibalism on the back burner, his legs arguing against movement with a bazillion pin-pricks up and down their length. There was no need to ask what her warning tone was about, however, as the sound carried clearly through the trailer door.

”…got your shipment in here. Got a guy in Oxnard that makes the molds for me. Not a bad artist actually…”

Flicking on the light one more time, Carlton gestured to his partner, noting she’d drawn her weapon and was standing at ready. His own gun in hand, he managed to convey through a few signals what he needed her to do. Clearly going for silence, she left her heels behind as she followed him stealthily to the rear of the vehicle and took her position.

Seconds later the lock clicked on the sliding door.

Light spilled with the ratcheting clatter of rollers.

Lassiter gripped his weapon in both hands as his shoulders pressed into the tower of boxes beside him.

“…ell me these aren’t the best you’ve ever see…”

“O’HARA, NOW!” Allowing no time to react, the two detectives slammed into the unsteady stacks, partially unwrapped boxes raining cardboard, Styrofoam peanuts, and fragile ceramic frogs on the gathered men below.

Shouts and cries gave the needed distraction, and Carlton braced against the metal siding to cover the four individuals half buried in detritus.

“SBPD- WEAPONS DOWN AND HANDS IN THE AIR!” Slowly hands lifted skyward, several guns plus a few knives clattering to the cement.

Meanwhile, Carlton’s neighbor/perp God, the man actual had adult sized blinking shoes. And he thought Spencer had cornered the market on tacky. Did those things come equipped with wheels too? seemed to be trying to place him. Lassiter grinned at the confusion. “Pretend I’m watering my lawn.” The shocked realization was almost worth the past few days.

He trained his weapon on Mr. Flashy Feet. “You, glowey, hand over the cell phone to my partner! The rest of you, faces to the floor! DO IT!” Making certain the small group flattened out away from the coverage of crumpled containers, Lassiter kept his weapon drawn until his partner called in for backup on a phone even blingier than her own. Then, with two sets of handcuffs and a few plastic zip ties, they secured their catch, waiting until more units arrived.

It wasn’t long before the intermittent whoop of several approaching sirens echoed around the warehouse. Taking an opportunity while their badge-wearing assistance was still out of earshot, Lassiter pulled O’Hara close, fingers wrapped loosely around her upper arm.

“No matter what happens, we don’t speak of this to anyone. Ever.” His teeth clenched together tightly, grinding at the enamel. “Especially not Spencer.”

His partner, eyes solemn and mouth a thin line, nodded once. “It’s a deal.”




_)()(_




Shawn’s shoulders were starting to ache from rowing- though he had to admit that with the moon finally making a show, the smooth lake surface was very pretty. Behind him, Gus had grown silent again; though Shawn was pretty sure it was the result of freezing terror instead of slightly excessive friendship aggression. Hustled into the rowboat, Bob had made it plain that Sassy would be upgrading her diet that night.

“You know Bob, Gus and I are pretty understanding guys.”

Fingers tightening on the stock of his gun, the large man facing them continued to glare, blinking the sweat from his eyes. “Jus’ shut up and work them oars!”

Obeying the second command, Shawn blithely ignored the first. “No really! Just ask Gus. He totally understands what it’s like to lose a beloved pet, don’t you Gus.” He looked over his shoulder only to see an expression both stricken and vindictive. “Sorry dude, I know how you felt about Booker T. Barkington.”

Spinning back to the older man, he tipped his chin. “It was worse for you though, wasn’t it Bob.” He said softly. “You really loved all your animals. You cared for them every day of their lives. They were more than just income- they were your family.” He sighed, hands dropping from the oars to lean forward. “But then it was all taken away.”

Bob pressed his lips together, but the gun didn’t waver. However, he also didn’t demand that Shawn start rowing again.

“You couldn’t stand the thought of losing all your animals. Who else could take care of them like you could?”

The gun moved up and down as the big man shrugged. “They were my friends. I raised most of em’ from babies.”

Shawn clasped his hands between his knees, the boat drifting freely. “So you kept one.”

Gus jerked, finally remembering his words. “Kept one!? Like what, the bear? Wait, don’t tell me he has a mountain lion in his basement!”

Shawn inhaled while glancing down at the water. “Not exactly.”

“Back when I first started out you didn’t need permits for anything! My first show I ever did was all reptiles back in eighty nine. Small time back then, but I had some turtles and snakes till they started scaring people away. Same thing with the croc and even the little tree lizards. People always had more trouble with reptiles. That’s when I switched over to cuter and cuddlier.”

“Let’s just say he’s Betty White, and we’re both Bill Pullman.”

Gus lurched, boat rocking wildly as he pulled his arms and legs in tight to his body. “WHAT!? You’ve got a damn crocodile in here!?”

Shawn stared at the tired but determined gaze across from him. “It was easy at first, hiding Sassy in the lake, while keeping her nearby with a regular KFC run. You practically emptied your savings buying food for her.” He glanced again at the lake, but there was nothing to see. “It was going along just fine… until the chicken processing plant burned down last year.” Something struck the side of the boat, and Shawn flinched, trying to keep his eyes on everything at once, until he saw the branch bobbing next to the fiberglass side. Gus made a small noise, sliding himself to the floor.

Bob brought one hand to the back of his skull- scrubbing at his balding scalp. “I had enough in my freezer to last me a coupla’ months. I tried to find another source- not like I could just go to the market and buy feed- it would have been noticed. But I had to do something!”

Shawn’s eyes moved from Bob, to the gun, to the water, and back to Bob once more. “So you started stealing livestock.” Waves slapped the boat again, and Shawn fixed his attention on the gun to keep himself from panicking. Guns he could handle. Being shot at was old hat. Having a giant lizard try to eat you was entirely different, and he’d watched enough Crocodile Hunter to know these ‘little beauties’ didn’t respond well to negotiations.

Bob’s hand still rubbed at his head, though the other kept a solid grip on the shotgun. “I didn’t know what else to do… If anyone knew I had her, they’da shot her! I couldn’t let her hunt on her own and I knew she liked pigs best. Besides Ruger has so many of them things anyhow…”

“So you made some fake feet and left tracks around his property, knowing his own superstitions would make him believe it was the lake monster.” Shawn shifted, preparing to speak again when a solid THUD shook through the boat.

“Oh my God!” Moaned Gus, pulling his arms over his head. Shawn closed his eyes and breathed fast, trying to keep himself under control.

And then control vanished as a massive shudder spun the front end, pulling high-pitched screams from both Shawn and Gus. “Dang it!” Shouted Bob, arms swinging as he nearly lost his balance. Regaining control, Bob leveled the weapon at the two friends.

“Knock it off! I’m tired of your bullcrap, and nobody’s taking Sassy from me!” Almost as though she were listening, a giant dark head drifted to the surface, single eye locking on the figures in the boat. Long jaws parted slightly, and a thick groaning roar rippled the water around her massive skull. She was waaaay more enormous than Shawn had thought!

Stumbling backward on rubber legs he knocked Gus flat, practically crushing him until his friend, in complete empathy, jabbed him in the kidneys with the point of his fingers. “AH, Gus!”

“You got us into this, you get us out Shawn!” No need to scream so close to his ear- pretty sure the drum just ruptured…

Sassy snapped her teeth together, tail slashing as she charged the boat. Now all three men screamed, cowering until suddenly she dove, the backwash rocking them with her passage.

Bob was still trying to get his feet beneath him, gun barrel pointing to the sky. They had one chance. “Gus, now!”

He charged.

Striking the big man in the gut, Bob hollered, gun discharging both barrels in a hot flash before both he and his weapon tipped into the lake. Shawn yelled as his body followed after, his frantically scrabbling fingers just barely catching on the rim as he went under. However, the thought of jaws locking down on his torso before shredding him apart in a death roll gave him the motivation to drag himself back from the water.

As soon as he was safe, soaked from scalp down, he spun on his friend still crouching on the floor.

“Dude, what the heck was that!?”

Eyes still wild, though they were rapidly growing petulant, Gus frowned in irritation. “What the heck was what Shawn?”

“Help!” Sputtering and splashing, thick fingers wrapped around the edge of the boat.

Shawn stared in bafflement, rivulets skittering down the back of his neck and into his collar. “Where were you? You totally ignored my signal!”

“Help!” Both ignored the figure still trying to climb back onboard. Pulling out the front of his shirt, Shawn squeezed about three quarts from the soggy material. Great, now he had to change, again.

“There WAS no signal! You just shouted ‘now’ and took off!”

More splashing, the boat jerking from the desperate attempts near the bow. “Guys come on!”

Shawn crossed his arms, strongly affronted. “Gus, how many times have we watched Lethal Weapon? The good guys ALWAYS argue to throw the baddie off- it’s a classic bit!” He could feel water in his ears, and shook his head rapidly to fight off the sensation.

“Please! help me!”

“Just admit it Shawn. You had no idea what you were going to do until you did it! Next time you want me in on some hare-brained stunt, ask me first!”

“For the love of God!”

Shawn sighed, realizing he wasn’t getting through. “Fine, whatever, next time we get kidnapped and are about to be fed to something with huge teeth I’ll plan it out for you in detail ahead of time.”

“Fine!” Gus retaliated, lip pouting once more.

“Good!” Turning towards their pale-faced former captor, Shawn reached for a fleshy wrist. “Now help me rescue Bob before he gets chewed.”



_)()(_



Thankfully, getting Bob out of the water and back to shore was more or less incident free- though Shawn did incur the wrath of the insect population for most of the county. Still, a few itchy welts were bite marks he could handle.

Once back on moderately dry- sorta squishy ground, Bob immediately started apologizing. Considering he’d just tried to feed them to his pet, it was the least he could do. As a bonus, he led them to a small pen hidden on the opposite side of his house from the storage shed. Inside it, alive but very unhappy, was Petunia.

The local cops arrived about forty minutes after this, along with about six members of animal control from a nearby town. Used to netting recalcitrant cats and the random dog, goat, or chicken, they were poorly equipped to handle a twenty-three foot crocodile- even if she only had one eye. The cops were starting to pull their weapons when Shawn held up his hands.

“Woah, woah, guys!”

“Sir, we appreciate your help, but we need you and your friend to stand aside and let us do our jobs.”

Shawn wrinkled his nose at the statement. “Seriously, is that something they make you memorize in order to graduate from the academy?” When they began moving past him again, he waved wildly. “Hold on! Look, there’s no need for further bloodshed!” Not bad- actually somewhat dramatic if he said so himself.

“Sir…”

“Shawn, what are you doing! That thing tried to eat us!”

Offering a sideways glance towards his friend while simultaneously blocking the determined officers, Shawn cleared his throat.

“I think I can offer a solution that will make everyone in this immediate… county, district… moderately…uh… less unhappy.”

Gus glared. “Oh really? Like what?”



_)()(_



                              VOODOO PSYCHIC NABS SASSY IMPERSONATOR!

‘Psychic consultant Shawn Spencer uncovered a secret over two decades old when he exposed the legendary Sassy for what she truly was! No prehistoric creature, the Lake Monster, as she was dubbed, was, in truth, a gargantuan saltwater crocodile! Nearly thirty feet in length, the herculean reptile was saved from slaughter by the benevolent intervention of Mr. Spencer. Requiring the strength and time of dozens of volunteers, this dinosaur of the deep was captured and successfully transported to the Santa Barbara Zoo where-’